


line of sight

by inkwelled



Series: pieces [5]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CatradoraWeek2018, Detectives, Drunkenness, Explicit Language, F/F, Inspired By Criminal Minds and Blue Bloods, Law Enforcement, Partners in Crime, Partners to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: It's a habit she's content to never outgrow.Adorais a habit she's content to never outgrow.or— catra and adora are partners on and off the job and without realizing it, become each other's routine. day five ; habits/temper





	line of sight

**Author's Note:**

> me? late again with another catradora ficlet? it's more likely than you think !
> 
> shoutout to the ot50 for this one, specifically mil, ann, lois, and lexi. you guys are literally the best. thank you for bullying me into writing this even though it's 11pm and i should be sleeping. it needed to be done and despite threatening to cut the sleeves off my shirts and eat my triscuits, you guys are the best.
> 
> title ; [line of sight](https://genius.com/Odesza-line-of-sight-lyrics) by odesza

Adora leans back and laughs as her partner stumbles through the door. "Long night?"

Without missing a beat, Catherine collapses into the chair across from hers and flips her the bird. Her head _thunks_  against the chipped wood desk. "You don't even know. Now shut up, my brain is doing loops around the precinct."

"Here, you drama queen," Adora smirks, rolling her eyes as she pushes a cup of coffee across the desks. "Drink quick, Captain says we got a case. I'm waiting for the details."

Catherine groans but takes the coffee cup. She takes a long drag. "Of _course_  we have a case this early in the morning. Why can't people wait to murder and be murdered until after the sun rises?"

"We both know it doesn't work like that, but bring that up at the next precinct meeting, I dare you. Bet Sarge will get a kick out of that."

Catherine snorts. "Sarge gets a kick out of everything. She isn't exactly the hardest to make laugh."

Shrugging, Adora reaches over to snatch the keys off of her partner's desk. "I'm driving this time."

"Hey!" Catherine exclaims, leaning forward too quick before closing her eyes. "You know what, nevermind. Go wild."

Adora smirks victoriously.

"Eternia, Weaver. Get in here."

How her partner has so much energy at 7:16 in the morning, Catherine will never know. Somehow, her desk chair is the comfiest thing in that moment and she mourns dragging herself to her feet.

Adora's already in the debriefing room by the time Catherine trudges in. Her partner waves to her before turning back to her conversation with two other detectives - _Bowman? Glimmer?_ Catherine doesn't know or care enough to ask - and she drops into one in the back.

Head spinning, she closes her eyes and pretends like she isn't a single minute away from vomiting again.

"You still alive?"

Catherine cracks open an eye. Adora slides into the chair next to her and leans close. "You look three seconds away from a body bag."

Their Commanding Officer walks into the room as she throws her partner the bird. "Look alive," Scarlett says and her partner plus Bowman and Glimmer sit up straight. Catherine waves.

Scarlett's never insisted on being called Sergeant. Catherine likes that about her.

"Got a fresh one down at the docks," Scarlett says as she throws the file down on the podium and gets straight to the point. Another thing Catherine respects, she doesn't hedge around what she's going to say. "Eternia, Weaver, need you to be on-site. CSI should be done soon. Schribner, Fukuhara. Canvas surrounding buildings, see what you can get. Anything - witnesses, video."

"Yes ma'am!"

Catherine throws Scarlett a weak salute, smiling, as Adora pushes her feet off the table. "Just because Sergeant Ash doesn't require you to call her Sarge doesn't mean you can act like you own the place."

"You're just jealous you keep kissing ass and it's gotten you nowhere," she smirks victoriously, "don't take it out on me. Not my fault I'm the best partner ever."

"That literally made no sense in context."

"What, that I'm the best partner?"

Catherine snorts. "Alright, Detective of the Month five months in a row. Get a move on - this body isn't going to investigate itself."

"You going to grab your coffee?"

"As if I'd survive without it," she retorts, swiping it off her desk and taking a long drag. Her partner's smile is blinding, brighter than the morning sun. Catherine's heartbeat jack-rabbits and she hopes Adora can't hear it.

"Cat? You coming?"

She blinks. "Yeah! I was grabbing the keys."

Adora gapes at her before rooting through her pockets. With a knowing smirk, Catherine dangles the keychain from her fingers before tossing them to her partner. "You gotta watch it Adora, or you'll lose it."

Detective Eternia sticks out her tongue.

"How mature of you," Catherine drawls and Adora cackles.

"Bet I can get to the elevator before you, old woman."

Her partner growls. "Just because I'm nursing a hangover doesn't mean I can't outrun you. Remember, my time is three seconds before yours-"

"Not anymore!" Adora trills, taking off. Catherine yelps and scrambles after her.

"Not fair! You didn't say go!"

 

 

"I hate talking to CSI," Catherine grouses, slumped down in her seat. "They're weird and always make me sneeze because they reek of chemicals."

"Maybe get to the car faster and you'll get first pick."

Catherine sticks out her tongue at her partner, who laughs. "Who's the mature one now?"

"Shut up."

Adora's victorious smirk stays plastered on her face the rest of the day. Catherine doesn't have the heart to wipe it off her and soon she doesn't have to because they catch the killer.

It's the victim's boyfriend.

Her best friend, partner, the closest thing she has to family, cries into her shoulder as Catherine rubs her shoulders. Adora's body trembling against hers, sandwiching hers to the warped greenish-gray stall door of the precinct bathroom, Catherine holds her tight.

She circles her forearms around Adora's neck, drawing her until Adora's nose is pressed into the junction of her shoulder. Despite the few inches her partner has on her, Catherine silently thanks herself for spite-buying boots with larger soles.

Because she can do this.

"We got him," Catherine murmurs, thumbs working into Adora's biceps. Her partner is quiet in her arms. "We got him, Adora. He can't hurt anyone else."

Adora's next breath is shaky, fragile. "If we only found him sooner-"

"Don't," Catherine says forcefully, but it's not harsh. "Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Princess. Don't focus on the what-ifs - I know you feel guilty we didn't get this guy before he killed that girl, but you got him now. You prevented countless other murders, so many women will go to bed safe because you did what had to be done."

"We."

"What?"

Adora's breath is hot against her neck. "We did this," she whispers. "We, Catherine. Together."

She wraps her fingers through Adora's and breathes out slowly.

"We."

 

 

"Cath?"

The bar is pounding, the bass so loud it rocks Adora to her bones. The smoke from the teens in the corner makes her eyes water and she feels off-balance without her holster on her side.

She keeps going.

Her partner blinks at her before her mouth splits wobbily into a smile. "'Dora!" Catherine slurs, arms extending to wrap Adora into a tight hug.

She can smell the liquor from here.

She should've asked Catherine again before they clocked out if she was okay. Most days, being a detective was rewarding - catching bad guys, putting them away, saving people.

But today had been worse than usual.

Adora still remembers Catherine's scream when the woman stepped off the side of the roof, victim clutched in her arms. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to remove that sound from her memory - it's been playing on repeat like a skipping record ever since.

Catherine had screeched, and screeched, the moment looping forever and ever. She remembers the tears in the young woman's eyes, slipping down her tears, the tremble of the kidnapper's hands against the gun pressed into the younger woman's neck.

She won't admit it, but Adora remembers the sound of them hitting the pavement. Somehow, it's almost worse than how Catherine lunged for the edge and had almost fell through Adora's grasp.

Adora can still recall Catherine's hip in her hand as she caught her from tumbling over the edge too.

When the Sarge asks, eyes sympathetic, Adora doesn't tell her superior about how she hugged Catherine so close her shirt felt too thin with her partner's racing heartbeat. She doesn't breathe a word of how Catherine trembled in the passenger seat, the tears dripping off her chin.

She doesn't tell Scarlett, when she asks, how she held her partner's hand on the way home. How she never once let go - how she let Catherine's fingers wrap around her wrist, squeezing and releasing over and over until her bones stopped quivering.

Adora knows what Scarlett would say. _Policy._

In front of her, Catherine hiccups.

She leans so far back in the barstool that for a split second, Adora fears for her life. Catherine laughs, a high-pitched trill that makes Adora's head spin faster despite all the other noise in the already packed bar.

"Let's get you home."

Catherine squints at her. "N-no!" she hiccups, leaning away to wave for the bartender. Adora silently thanks the man for ignoring her obviously drunk partner. "No 'Dora stay! Shots. Stay."

Sighing, Adora slides her arm underneath Catherine's elbow. "Maybe later," she derails absent-mindedly, "but for now let's get you home. How does a bath sound?"

Catherine hums in her ear as Adora slides a twenty across the counter and makes for the door. Her partner's body is heavy against hers, she's basically dragging Catherine's corpse, but Adora is glad she's here.

She doesn't want to think about what might have happened if she didn't show up when she did.

Adora flags down a cab with minimal trouble. Getting Catherine into the backseat and talking her out of vomiting up her drinks, however, is a great deal harder - but a few minutes later they pull up outside Adora's apartment building without incident.

She thanks the cab driver profusely, slips them another twenty and drags her best friend inside. By now, Detective Catherine Weaver is nothing more than dead weight.

It's a good thing Adora Eternia is so used to lifting weights that carrying her partner fireman style up seven flights of stairs is nothing. She ignores the looks she gets when she encounters anyone else - her friend can barely remember how to breathe. How is she supposed to climb the stairs herself?

Somehow, they make it to Adora's door.

No matter how many weights she lifts, Catherine is still an adult woman and Adora's arms ache by the time she slides her key into the lock. It's simple from there - strip down Catherine, force pain pills and a glass of water down her throat, tuck her into bed.

Adora's all too familiar with this routine.

It's _their_  routine.

Catherine will be gone in the morning. Despite how Adora will sleep beside her, cuddled close to keep her unconscious partner warm through the night, the sheets will be empty in the morning and Catherine will show up to the precinct with a hangover.

If she even comes to work tomorrow.

Adora shakes her head. Right now, in this moment, she doesn't care. She just slips off her plain clothes, crawls into bed beside Catherine in nothing but her tank, underwear, and socks.

She's sure to leave a sandwich in the fridge, a note on the counter, a glass of water on the nightstand.

It's their habit, their routine. It's fucked up in every kind of way - Catherine's dependence on alcohol when cases don't work out, Adora's emotional withdrawal when she's faced with the horrors of the world.

As long as they have each other, though, Adora snuggles close to Catra's side and closes her eyes. They'll be okay. Eventually.

Maybe not now, or in the next minute, or hour. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after - or the day after that. It may be months, it may be years, but Adora knows one day she'll wake up with Catherine at her side.

She can only hope.

For now, she pulls Catherine closer.

She smells like cigarette smoke, metal, whiskey. What should make her nose wrinkle actually puts Adora at ease - this is her best friend. Her soulmate, her partner, the person who will always have her back.

No matter what.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Catherine knows she won't remember this in the morning, but pulls Adora closer. Her head is spinning faster than she can catch up, she doesn't know the use of her toes, but she does know the woman in her arms is the one she trusts the most.

 

 

"Hey."

Catherine squints up at Adora, haloed in the sickly-fluorescent light of the precinct in the early morning hours. "Talk louder, why don't you. My head isn't about to explode or anything."

"That's why I thought you might need this."

Catherine hides her smile behind the lip of the thermos.

It's a habit she's content to never outgrow.

 _Adora_  is a habit she's content to never outgrow.


End file.
